“You could have brought a couple of panini from the bar . . . a sweet bun . . . goddamn you!”

“It didn’t occur to me.”

“I’m going to go out to dinner in Pescara tonight. Give me a fifty-euro bill.”

Corrado finished pouring the water in his glass. He drank. He set the glass down in the sink. “No,” he said.

“No what?”

“I’m not giving you a penny, Enzo. I’m fucking sick and tired of this.”

Baiocchi turned slowly to look at him. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you’ve been here for three days. You wanted me to take you to Aosta, I did, now each of us can go his own way.” Even he had no idea where he had scraped up the gumption. But he’d said it. “How much longer do you need to stay here?”

Enzo rose slowly from the chair. “As long as I want. Don’t you think of busting my balls. And you know why?”

Corrado shook his head. Enzo stuck his hand in his pocket. He pulled out a receipt. “Take a look at what I found in the pocket of your jacket. You’re an asshole!” And he held it out in front of his eyes. “You see that? You know what it is? It’s got your full name on it, first and last, and the name of the hotel in Pont-Saint-Martin where you slept, and you even gave them your ID.” He smiled, baring his yellow teeth. “Asshole! This is all anyone needs, more than enough. Just remember, Corrà, if I go down, you’re coming down with me.”

Corrado darted away from the sink. “Why don’t you go back to Rome and leave me in peace?”

“I’ll go back, don’t worry, I’ll go back. Once things have calmed down. Why, what do you know about it?”

“What do I know about it? Hell, what do you know about it!” Corrado shouted. “You even fucked up. Instead of shooting that cop, you shot some poor girl who had nothing to do with it! You’re blind as a bat!”

Enzo didn’t move. He stared at Corrado, expressionless.

“It must be a problem with your family, Enzo! You and your brother, Luigi, both always seem to miss the target!”

Enzo lunged and was on him in a flash. He slammed Corrado against the wall. A knife had suddenly materialized in his hands. He pointed it at Corrado’s throat. “Watch what you say, you piece of shit! Don’t you dare mention my brother, ever!” The tip of the knife carved into the flesh of Corrado’s neck. Corrado opened his mouth and shut his eyes. A drop of blood rolled down the steel blade. “Just remember! If I go down, you’re coming down with me.” The bandit released his grip and rapidly put the knife away in his pocket. “Shave and take a shower, you reek of grease.”